Still My Best Girl
by Eponine Rose the LostGirl
Summary: She could still feel the piercing cold of the water. She could still hear the screams of the dying. It's been six years since the Titanic's sinking, but twelve year old Cora Cartmell remembers it like it was yesterday. Falling into a life of thievery and conning, it will take a visit from her past to make her see that she's more than she's become.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_The room was loud and impossibly rowdy, but it held a familiarity that couldn't be described. People were talking, carefree gaiety in their voices. It was immediately obvious that this bunch didn't have any significance in society, but to them this meant nothing. A white rat scurried across the floor, and all of the boys ran after it, each one vying to be its captor. In the middle of it all, sat a six year old girl and a man of about twenty. The girl had long, wavy brown hair and innocent eyes that resembled pools of chocolate. The man was exactly the opposite. His hair was an overgrown blonde, his eyes an electric blue. Struggling to impress, the child attempted to steady her hand as it awkwardly moved along the paper before her. Watching her there, it would seem as if she were trying to disable a bomb. Such a determined look seemed almost comical on a face so young._

_"See? You're getting better already!" said the girl's companion._

_She smiled up at him, feeling slightly more satisfied, but still set on being as good as the man sitting beside her._

_"Cora dear, it's time to go. Say goodbye to Uncle Jack now," her father's voice put the girl out of her intense concentration,_

_"Bye Uncle Jack."_

Waking with a start, twelve year old Cora Cartmell sat shaking from her dream. It was a miracle to her how she'd kept those memories from six years before, so vivid and so real, as if Jack Dawson had just been teaching her to draw. But she knew better. Everything she'd ever known was gone. Her parents were dead, her "uncle" was dead, and she should've been dead too. And it was all because of an iceberg.

The sinking of the Titanic had left Cora a starving, lonely orphan, left to fend for herself in a city she'd never seen before. However, with nowhere to go and nothing to do, she had become a streetwise girl who knew her way around. There were always times when she missed having a real childhood, but she also took pride in the fact that she could get things she needed without anyone's help at all. It was true, she had caved in to thievery years ago, though she wasn't proud of it. She had been coming to the White Star building since 1912, returning every night to sleep there and, in a sense, it was home to her.

Ready to start her day, Cora got up, dusting off her hands as she prepared to meet her next wealthy target.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A/N- Hey guys! This is my first fic and I am soooo excited! Don't ask me why, but ever since I first saw "Titanic," I've been really interested in Cora Cartmell, the little girl who becomes Jack's honorary niece on the ship. I just wondered: What if she survived while her parents didn't? What if she went down the wrong path along the way? Then, viola, SMBG was born! So, enjoy, and remember that REVIEWS MAKE ME SUPER HAPPY.

Another convenient thing about the White Star building is that a park lay just across the street. This, as you can imagine, makes a great place for Cora to steal and use her incredible acting skills to con people as well.

You can do this, she thought to herself, just act starving.

Acting starving was no hard feat for Cora, because she practically was. She hadn't eaten since two nights before, and it was getting to her. Slumping up against a tree, she waited, scouting out the people who walked by. Then, bingo! She saw a man wearing a crisp white shirt with a charcoal black overcoat and matching slacks. The ensemble was of such quality that it was obvious that the man had quite a bit of money burning a hole in his pocket.

In standing up, she almost fainted from severe head rush. She half-walked, half-stumbled over to her victim, collapsing at his feet as hers failed to support her. Choking back a sob, she pleaded, "Please sir, find it in your heart to help the poor!"

"And why on Earth would I do that?" the man briskly replied.

"Because I am only a girl, sir! My parents are dead and I am left to provide for my brothers and sisters! I used the last of our money getting here from England!" Cora said, using her British accent to its full potential.

"If I give you money will you leave me alone?"

"Yes, of course, sir!"

"Then here you go," he said, throwing money her way and then regally walking away.

Lifting her head, she stared at the large amount of money in front of her, smiling like a kid in a candy store. She got up and walked down the street, chuckling as she did.

Upon entering the bakery, Cora had attracted many stares. After all, who wouldn't be a bit surprised if a dirty homeless girl walked in the door of a clean, first-rate business? Trying to ignore the sets of eyes on her, she walked up to the counter, ready to make her choice. Losing herself in the different cakes and pastries, she completely forgot about the woman waiting for her order.

"Excuse me? Are you going to buy anything?" the baker asked, sympathy in her voice. There was nothing Cora hated more than sympathy.

"Uh, yes, I'll have one slice of pound cake," she said, feeling slightly guilty because, for her, this was splurging big time.

When her food was given to her, she peered inside the bag. What she saw was shocking. Two slices awaited her.

"Um, I don't think I ordered another."

"Keep it," the woman said, flashing the girl a friendly smile.

With that, she was gone. She rushed out the door, averting her eyes. As soon as she got back to her "home," she angrily shoved her face, muttering to herself.

"I don't need your sympathy. I'm fine, I'm just fine…" she said, spraying crumbs everywhere.

And so she sat, a girl who was without a roof over her head, without regular meals, and without a friend in the world.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**A/N- Sorry people, last time I forgot to put my author's note in bold, but I will from here on out. I also apologize if there are any historical inaccuracies as far as the layout of 1918 New York. I live nowhere near there, so I don't even know what it looks like now, let alone almost a hundred years ago. On a completely unrelated note, I finished Rick Riordan's The Mark of Athena today, and I personally think that Percabeth is the second best fictional couple ever (I bet you can tell who the first is)! PUH-LEEEEZE R&R, IT MAKES ME BELIEVE I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO LIKES THIS STORY!**

Despite the delicious food now in her system, Cora was still hungry. If anything, the cake only weakened the dull pain in her stomach. It was late into the night now, so, without much else to do, she slowly let her mind drift to the early days of her turmoil, back when she was a wide-eyed little soul who knew nothing of the cruel world she had just been pushed into. Back then, she'd held such innocence. Well, as much innocence as a person who'd just witnessed a shipwreck could hold. How much she longed for the days before leaving England, before the tragic doom of the Titanic. She remembered immediately feeling intimidated by its size, saying to her father when he had called it a boat, "Daddy, it's a ship." It was a ship indeed. But no ship is really unsinkable…

Stop it, she scolded herself, You can't live in the past. You just can't.

This was Cora's motto. After all that she'd seen, after having her innocence stripped at such a tender age, she'd come to the conclusion that showing any emotion was toxic. Her heart had hardened considerably since the April night six years previous, but that ship, that ship was her Achilles heel. She was ripped from her thoughts when she realized that she was trembling violently. As she sat there in the alleyway, she thought about the people who had graced her short life: her mother and father, Tommy Ryan, Fabrizio De Rozzi, her wonderful Uncle Jack, even the woman named Rose who had interrupted the dance she had shared with Jack. But they were all gone, taken by the merciless black ocean of 1912. This was the very ocean that haunted her dreams each and every night.

Silent tears turned to tremulous sobs as her breaths became shallow and constricted. The world looked blurry through sloppy tears. In the back of her mind, the girl knew that she was acting immature - she hadn't thrown such a fit in years – but she felt as though her heart was a large dam, struggling to keep the tears at bay. Finally, with no one watching, she had let the dam break, as well as part of her sanity. Blinded by rage at the unfairness of it all, she set off running, taking her sorrow with her.

Stumbling and panting as she went, Cora suddenly remembered the times when her father would tell her fairytales, stories of princesses like Cinderella and the Sleeping Beauty. Those stories always ended with "happily ever after," and she had believed in those words, had let them fool her. Reality had soon taught her that happy endings only occurred in stories. If only she still had the faith to believe in such things. Even if they weren't true, it was still nice to be oblivious to the truth. Before she could stop it, she became engulfed in her thoughts for the second time that day.

_"And so they lived happily ever after. Goodnight love," her father told her, kissing her forehead softly._

_Yawning, the small child said, "But Daddy, I'm not tired."_

_"Just try Cora. Please, for me?"_

_"Okay," Cora replied, as her father stood up to leave the room._

_She settled down in her bed, after a while sitting up to say, "Daddy?"_

_"Yes, love?"_

_"Does happily ever after really happen?"_

_"Only if you believe it does."_

_"Will I have a happily ever after?"_

_"It depends. Do you solely promise to always believe in the power of happily ever after?"_

_The child giggled, "I promise. I'll always believe, forever and ever!"_

_"Alright Cora, I now grant you with the honor of having your very own happily ever after. But remember, you have to believe for it to happen. So never stop believing."_

_After her father left the room, she contently whispered, "I'll never stop believing."_

But the sad truth was, she had stopped believing, and it had affected her greatly. And then she saw it in the bookstore window: Grimm's Fairy Tales. She didn't know why, maybe it was to remind her of her promise, but she needed that book. It was a longing she had never known for a material object, fueled by incurable heartbreak. She tried to open the door, but it was locked, and as she looked up she saw the small sign in the door that read "closed." Jiggling the knob with a sudden rush of anger, she soon decided that it was a futile attempt and slammed her fist against the door. She was mad; mad at the world, mad at herself. Bursting into tears once again, she threw herself at the door, clawed at it, punched it and kicked it, trying anything to breach the thing that stood between her and that beautiful book of stories. Yelling loudly, feeling close to the brink of insanity, she spotted a tree out of the corner of her eye. This tree was young and had several branches that hung particularly close to the ground. Marching over to the tree with great determination, she took hold of a branch, pulling with all of her strength. At last it broke free, and Cora ran back to the bookstore heart pounding in her ears. Holding the branch much like a spear, she ran it into the display window, shattering it on contact. Reaching through the hole in the glass, she grabbed the book and ran as fast as she could back to the White Star headquarters. She sat down in the dark, uninviting alley and sobbed once again. She had never done something so horrible in her life. Laying her head on her arms, she winced as she noticed the deep wound left by the jagged glass from reaching for the new possession. Not only had she disappointed herself, she knew that what she had originally done to remember her father was probably causing him grief wherever he was now.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she called out, doing so until she cried herself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**A/N- Being a new author, I smile like an idiot at each review I get. Sure I've only gotten 3, but they make me super happy. Hearing all of the kind words really makes me feel like I might be able to get somewhere with my writing. Keep em comin!**

Waking up with a splitting headache, Cora groaned as she remembered last night's incident. She nearly cried out in pain as she put pressure on her right arm. Then she remembered the ugly gash the window had given her. Inspecting the wound, she noticed that it was about three inches deep and starting to get infected. Standing up weakly with storybook in hand, she stumbled back, trying to blink away the spots dancing before her eyes. In seconds, however, her world was washed in a blue static,and she felt an unsettling warmth spread throughout her brain. There was that head rush again! When it cleared at last, she set out for the park once more.

Reaching for the fountain that watched over the small patch of greenery, she dropped to her knees, scooping up some fountain water in her grimy hand. Carefully, she pried open the gash with her other hand and cleansed her arm completely. She had to bite her lip until it bled to keep the tears back, but she had to stay strong. After all, showing weakness in the public eye was forbidden. Practically crawling over to her favorite tree, she opened the book with a feather's touch. Her eyes swept over the title with unease, as she hadn't read in years, though she had learned when she was only four. After officially deciding that her skill for reading had lessened, she let her eyes wander around the park freely. Across the way was a man in earthen tones and suspenders- it was clear that he had no money to his name. She paid little attention to the man inside the clothes, focusing instead on the object beside him. She smiled as she saw a leather-bound portfolio with paper messily jammed into it. Why, that certainly looked familiar. The man got up to walk around, leaving his portfolio on the now empty bench. Cora quickly bounded over to the other side of the park. Slowly putting her hand out, she touched the cover of the portfolio, even more careful with it than she'd been with Grimm's Fairy Tales. She picked it up, and the world around her disappeared.

_Irish music played, fitting the scene in front of the band. The third-class passengers on the ship danced to the music, most of them being Irish immigrants. The same man who had been drawing earlier in the day was dancing, his partner the small girl who he had been teaching. He spun her around, both of them smiling widely. The song then came to a close, and the man walked up to a redheaded woman of around eighteen years of age._

_ "Come on," he said expectantly._

_ "What?" the woman said, not understanding the offer._

_ "Come with me."_

_ "What? No! Jack! Jack, wait!" she said as she was being pulled onto the dance floor._

_ "We're going to have to get a little closer, like this," Jack said, pulling her closer to him._

_ The girl watched on, clearly jealous of this woman who had stolen her dance partner._

_ Jack, seeing her displeasure, said to her, "You're still my best girl, Cora!"_

_ This remark satisfied her, so she smiled and let them dance._

You'd think, having injured herself so badly, that Cora would vow never to steal again. This was her plan, of course, but this was a special case. This was an opportunity to commemorate the life of her Uncle Jack and try her hand at drawing again. Making her decision, she walked over to the tree to retrieve her book and make a run for it. In beginning to cross the street, she heard a voice yell, "Hey! Stop!"

She continued on, pretending not to hear the man. Soon after, she broke into a run when she heard footsteps behind her.

"You can't just run off!" yelled the owner of the portfolio as he spun Cora around.

Falling down, she looked up into a very angry pair of bright blue eyes.

"What do you have to say for yourself, stealing someone else's things?" staring at the homeless girl in front of him, the man's expression softened. He knew how it was to be in her position.

"Uncle Jack?" she asked, voice wavering.

"What are you talking about? I don't have any nieces… Cora?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A/N- I'm SO SORRY that I haven't been updating! I'm not going to give some excuse like "I had sooo much homework," because that is no reason to ignore you guys. It is fully due to the laziness on my part and I hope that you'll forgive me. I also hope that you like Jack's reappearance in Cora's life. I had to have him in there because, frankly, if I had thought of Titanic before Jim Cameron had, he wouldn't have died. Speaking of which…

BIG FAT DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Titanic (but I really wish I did)!

Jack's POV:

"Uncle Jack?"

When Jack heard the girl call him that, he had been caught completely off guard. Did he have any nieces? No, as far as he knew, he was an only child. But then he remembered, remembered a small voice once calling him that, a voice that sounded nothing like the one that had just addressed him. He was staring into the eyes of Cora Cartmell.

The two sat, gaping at each other for minutes before Cora broke the chilling silence.

"I… I thought," she stammered, and Jack could tell that she was trying to fight back the tears, to keep her voice level, "How, how are…"

He watched as the girl lowered her head, hot tears of confusion falling to the ground. It was becoming increasingly harder for him to control his emotions as well. For six years, he had mourned. He had mourned the deaths of 1,500 people, though only three of them appeared in his dreams, only three of them had brought him to tears. Those deaths were those of his best friend, his true love, and his honorary niece. To him, it seemed so utterly unfair that the cruel Atlantic had taken the life of such an innocent little thing, but this whole time she had been alive. They had been living in the same city for six whole years and they had never even known it.

If only you would've known, he scolded himself, You could've taken care of her. You could've put a roof over her head, but you never even bothered to look. Not once. God, Jack!

By the looks of her, Cora had not been living well over the time they had spent apart. Her clothes were practically rags, and were much too small for her lanky structure. Her features had grown sharp and angular, and her eyes were nothing like those big brown ones he had come to love on the Titanic. They had lost their youthful shine; they were dull and lifeless, like they'd known suffering beyond their twelve years. Finally, Jack couldn't take it any longer. One large, sorrowful tear rolled down his cheek, landing on Cora's right leg. She looked up at him, momentarily looking like the curious little soul that she had once been. Her eyes shone, not with happiness but with unshed tears that threatened to fall at any given moment. That look, full of despair and pain, sent Jack over the edge.

Both the twenty-six-year-old and the twelve-year-old ran into each other's arms, shaking and sobbing into each other's shoulders. Neither one would've ever guessed that they would've seen each other again, not in a million years. No words were needed as they cried, for they understood each other's emotions perfectly. They got to a point where they were crying so hard that they were gasping for air and their own legs wouldn't even support them. People stared from all corners of the park, each and all waiting for the pair's next move. But Jack and Cora didn't care, for those people didn't know what they'd been through. Those people didn't know how much it hurt thinking that everything that you once had was gone. But the thing was, it hadn't been; just to have a piece of his past back filled Jack with soothing memories. Memories like the sweet smell of ocean air, the late night parties in third class, and… her.

Rose, who he had loved beyond words, who he had saved in every way that a person could be saved. He had to remind himself that she was gone now, in a place where no one could hurt her like that dirtbag Cal had, and that feeling joy without her was sin. This was the rule that he had lived by since April 14, 1912, and he truly believed that if he did more than crack a smile it was unfair to Rose, who should have been with him right then. She should've been there hugging Cora and crying just as he was, but he hadn't done enough to save her. This was another of his beliefs, that he hadn't done enough to protect Rose from the frigid cold of the night. It was a regret that he would live with for the rest of his life. It was a regret that not even the surprise of having Cora back could lift.

When the two finally stopped crying and stood up, their breaths shaky, Jack looked at the maturing girl in front of him and said, "Cora Cartmell, I never thought I'd see you again."

"That makes two of us," Cora replied wittily, making Jack smile. This Cora, the Cora he was talking to now, was a spitfire of a girl who could make a comeback sound coy without even trying. To say the least, he was proud of her ability to keep such humor in hard times. Possibly even more humorous than her wit was the fact that they were making conversation as if they had merely run into each other, like old acquaintances. Their dramatic episode that had taken place only a minute or so before had been forgotten.

"But how…" Jack petered off in mid-sentence, puzzled at how a six year old could survive a shipwreck, especially one like the Titanic's.

"You'd be surprised at how useful a floating deck chair can be," the girl said, her expression sour as she reminisced on that terrible night.

"How on Earth did you manage all of that time?" he asked, and he saw Cora's facial expression flicker to reflect shame. It was only for a second, but he noticed it nonetheless.

"I don't really want to talk about it," her voice wavered, and Jack could tell that she didn't want to be pushed, but he had to know.

"Cora, I want you to tell me the honest truth here," he started out slowly, "Do you steal from people? Are you a thief?"

"No," the girl said, head hung in shame and embarrassment, "Sometimes I con people into giving me money."

"Cora!" Jack was honestly surprised, "I never thought that you would ever do such a thing. Promise me that you'll never steal, or con for that matter, ever again. Stealing is wrong, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course I know that," her words were acid, practically burning Jack with their bitterness, "My father is…. Was an English gentleman. I think I know right from wrong. I did what I had to do to survive! And, Jack?"

"Yeah," said Jack miserably.

Cora leaned in, whispering to him, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not six anymore."

With that she ran off, unable to believe that she'd just been lectured by the one man who'd ever truly understood her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Betrayal. Pure, utter betrayal. That was all Cora could feel. Jack had always been there, always cared and understood. Now he was reprimanding her. It hurt, like needles stabbing her in the heart. No, it was beyond pain; it was a numbness that reached down into her soul and made her an icy pit of nothing. Now she truly had nobody. She felt no emotion, no tears fell. She was only empty, desperate, and alone. The feeling was like reaching in the dark for something that wasn't there**.** It was something that Cora wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.

Holding her storybook to her chest, she looked up at the sky and yelled, angry at the whole world, "You call this a happily ever after?! Why did you lie to me, why? That's all it was, a big lie!" she roared at her father, hopeless. Then, in the slightest whisper, she said, "I hate you."

Trembling, she threw the book several feet away. Cora, as you can see, was prone to throwing explosive tantrums when she is upset. This could've been for any number of reasons, but it was probably because this was the only time that she could act childish. Twelve though she was, her spirit was still a six-year-old who had been forced to grow up much too fast. She was, by throwing these fits, allowing herself to act as she truly felt: alone and drowning in depression. The tantrums refreshed Cora, each time preparing her for the days of hardship ahead. But this one was different. It wouldn't make her feel better; it would only make the numbness worse. Now she had no hope left, and without hope people are nothing.

Before she could comprehend it, she was racing down the street, running into people and tripping over her own feet. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she had crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks. Going wherever her legs took her, she found herself standing, with nowhere else to go, at the harbor. She felt like a piece in a chess game, like she had absolutely no say in her own luck, or lack of it. She felt like Fate's pawn. Without thinking, she climbed out beyond the safety of the dock, knuckles white from holding on the harbor railing. Would she really let go? It was no secret that Cora was afraid of water, for obvious reasons, but would she really drown herself? Then she heard the voice.

"Don't do it."

"Stand back! Don't come any closer!" Cora yelled, trying to be intimidating and failing miserably.

"Look, just take my hand and I'll pull you back over."

"No! Stay back! I mean it, I'll let go!"

"No you won't." said a woman's voice, calm and assuring.

"What do you mean 'no I won't'? Don't tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me!"

"Well, you would've done it already."

"You're distracting me, go away!" Cora tried again.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, I'm involved now and if you jump in there, I'm afraid I'm going to have to jump in after you."

"That's absurd! You'd kill yourself."

"I'm a strong swimmer." the woman winced as she said this, like it triggered bad memories.

"Well…well," Cora stammered, trying to find an excuse.

"Come on. You don't want to do this." the girl's savior smiled now, like the bad memories had been replaced by sweet, blissful ones.

Reluctantly, Cora grabbed the woman's hand and turned around. She was met by painfully red hair put up in a simple bun, a porcelain white face, and sparkling green eyes. A jolt went through her, and she said hesitantly, "Rose? It's me, Cora Cartmell."

**A.N-AH! IT'S BEEN, LIKE, A WHOLE MONTH SINCE I'VE BEEN ON HERE! You guys, I feel unbelievably bad, so I'm making this a two-chapter upload! Double-chappie dance! I hope you like my movie reference, but I had to change some of the stuff so it would fit Cora's situation (like Jack's ice-fishing story and the whole "the fall alone would kill you" part). Chapter seven soon to come!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Rose? Rose DeWitt Bukater was… alive? Cora felt dizzy at the thought of it all. She had been reunited with two people from her past, both of which she had assumed to be dead.

"Cora?" she heard Rose ask, voice full of concern.

Cora remembered muttering some kind of response, then passing out completely.

When her eyes fluttered open, she shot up in alarm. This was not her alleyway. She was in a large apartment, but it had cheap-looking brown furniture, a wooden coffee table, and one lamp in the corner. It reminded her nothing of-

"I see someone's feeling better." said Rose as she walked into the room.

She held the same proper air, but it was more relaxed now. She didn't look nearly as prim-and-pressed as she had the days on the Titanic. Her clothes weren't beaded and intricate; her outfit was composed of a blouse tucked into a floor-length skirt.

"You look different." was Cora's first comment. She could practically feel her father scolding her from Heaven for such rudeness. "But just seeing 'Ms. Rose DeWitt Bukater' at all is a privilege for the likes of me."

"Oh please," said Rose, rolling her eyes, "I'm Rose Dawson now, and I've tried to make my life as simple as my name."

"Dawson," Cora whispered, remembering her run-in with Jack.

She looked up at Rose to see the woman's eyes filling with tears. Then, it hit her: Rose didn't know. She still thought Jack was dead. Cora was about to spill the beans, but a great, monstrous anger rose inside of her, and she kept the secret to herself. Why should she do anything for him? He hadn't given her the proper sympathy when she'd needed it, so why should she give him the satisfaction of seeing the love of his life?

Instead, she put a supportive hand on Rose's shoulder and said, "I miss him too."

Had it been any other person sitting there, they would've crumbled under the pressure, but not Cora. Her past in conning gave her the upper hand in this fight, the fight against her own guilt.

Rose seemed to snap out of it and asked, "So, Cora, what have you been up to? Where do you live?"

"Oh!" the question caught Cora off guard. "Well, the alleyway of the White Star Building is very inviting."

"An alleyway? That's no way to live."

"It's kind of all I have. My family, well…" she trailed off sheepishly, but she didn't need to finish. The woman at her side understood, for she herself had lived the horrors of April 15, 1912.

"All you have? Not anymore." Rose said, determined, and she led Cora to a spare bedroom. "Make yourself at home."

Cora had no idea how long it had been since she'd slept in a real bed, so she fell almost immediately into a deep sleep. The dream came as it always did, which was out of nowhere.

_She was running down the long, turning corridors of the great Titanic, her parents right at her side. The water sloshed at knee-length, and her dress clung to her legs, slowing her down considerably. Behind her was the unmistakable roar of approaching water, cold and menacing. Sparks flew through the air each time seawater touched the lights giving the water an eerie incandescence. Both her mother and father were yelling and screeching, "Cora! Move, run Cora!"_

_But all that awaited them was a dead end, a locked gate that stood tall and proud, mocking them. The three ran up the stairs leading to the gate in absolute hysterics. Then, as if by magic, the water picked them up off the floor and got higher and higher still, and the ceiling was getting closer by the second. She continued yelling, screaming and kicking to stay afloat, but the water just kept rising. It was soon over her mouth, then her nose, then-_

Cora woke screaming and crying, and Rose rushed in. No questions were asked, she knew what had happened, for the same images haunted her dreams as well.

"I know, I know. It's okay. I'm here, it was only a dream."

But it hadn't been. It had really happened, and it would follow Cora for the rest of her life.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Eyes puffy and bloodshot, Cora walked into the living room of the apartment, where Rose sat reading the _New York Times._ Gazing at the front page, Cora stopped momentarily on the date: April 4, 1918. She cringed, for it was only ten days away. Every year on April 14, she ended up doing nothing more than sit and mope and, eventually, cry and howl until she fell asleep. Every year, she heard people's sympathy, or so they called it, as they said, "Yup, six years ago today. Such a shame. Took the life of John Jacob Astor, you know. Richest man on the ship and now he's at the bottom of the Atlantic."

That's all anyone cared about, the rich people who had died. Had they been locked behind gates at gunpoint? Had they been deprived of their chance to live? No. They got a "women and children first" and a waiting hand extended to them. And what's worse is that most of the women were too weak and afraid, so they didn't even leave to save themselves. Anyone in third class would've happily taken an open spot, but the first class all thought that they would be back in their staterooms by morning, while the water rose at the "gutter rats'" feet.

As if reading Cora's mind, Rose said, eyes never leaving the paper, "It's coming up, isn't it?"

"Seven years," Cora could hardly believe it, "since Heaven and Earth collided."

"That day, at Divine Services, we sang 'To Those in Peril on the Sea.' Ironic, don't you think?"

"Very." Cora replied, and they slipped into a heavy, thoughtful silence, both thinking of the astounding Ship of Dreams.

They'd both spent their time very differently- Cora in the steerage general room, Rose on her private promenade deck- but they'd both lived the same nightmare. Cora had an enormous amount of respect for the woman in front of her. She could've been on a lifeboat, on her way to safety, but she'd taken the hard route to save the man she loved, and that was honorable in the highest.

"So," Cora said finally, "what are we going to do?"

"Well, unlesss I'm mistaken, you need some new clothes."

_New clothes._ Cora hadn't had new clothes in almost a year because the only time she got new clothes was when a new group of suckers came along who hadn't the slightest clue of when conning was taking place, which was once in a great while. Her current clothes were in rags, covered in dirt and grime. Her skirt was getting increasingly closer to knee-length, showing off her scrawny legs, and her blouse was getting tight. New clothes would definitely be appreciated.

By the time they were out the door, Cora was jittery with excitement. She could feel change in the air, the start of a new life for her. Life was going to get better.

* * *

They store that they went into was simple, but the girl would've felt uncomfortable in any other enviroment. She already felt uncomfortable. The shoppers definitely weren't rich, but they didn't look like they had been plucked from the gutter like Cora. She looked down at her feet as she ventured into the shop, ashamed of herself and her rough and tumble appearance.

"May I help you?" the shopkeeper said, disgust distictly etched into her voice.

"Uh, yes, were looking for something about her size." Rose responded, pointing to Cora.

The woman who ran the store gave her a classic once-over, a thing that Cora was now accustomed to.

"And you have the means to pay for these garments?" she asked.

The girl clenched her fists, through with this lady's sleazy attitude. Just as she was about to say something, Rose retorted, "More than you have the right to treat my friend this way! She's a person, same as you, and I expect you to treat her as such."

The shopkeeper gawked at Rose like she was the rude one, but led them to the section they were looking for without a peep.

Clothes bought and on Cora, the two set off again just for the sake of getting somewhere.

* * *

"Where should we go next?" Rose asked, completely open to whatever Cora wanted.

"What?" Cora replied, for she'd been busy twirling around in her new skirt.

Laughing, Rose repeated, "Where do you want to go?"

"Oh," the girl thought, then her face lit up like it had when she'd first seen the Titanic, "the park!"

"Alright then, I guess we're going to the park."

When they arrived, Cora ran around and laughed, feeling the weight of the world being lifted off of her shoulders. Freedom coursing through her veins, she climbed the tallest tree in the park. Rose watched, smiling, and her eyes got misty as Cora stood up, hanging by a branch, and yelled, "I'm the queen of the world!"

All eyes went to the girl in the tree, who continued to laugh and let the breeze blow on her face. One set of eyes belonged to Jack Dawson, who began drawing her immediately.

As he picked up the charcoal, he had a happy gleam in his eye that he always got from sketching. He worked painstakingly to perfect Cora's features, which were no longer soft, but sharp and cold. Even so, her smile said it all. Jack, in just one drawing, had portrayed this feeling of joy and carelessness. It was as close to perfection as you can get.

Walking up to Cora's tree with new drawing in hand, he yelled up at Cora, "You know, that pose looks great on paper."

"Jack." Cora said, shocked, yet trying to sound bitter.

"If you don't want the picture-"

"No, I do!" she jumped out of the tree and snatched it from him.

Jack laughed, "Well alright then. Hey, you got new clothes."

"Yeah, a lady kinda took me in."

"What's her name?"

"Uh, I didn't catch it."

Cora stood strong under Jack's questioning gaze. She stared back in such a way that it seemed like a challenge.

"Well, take care of yourself, Cora."

"I will."

He walked away then, and Cora felt that a reconciliation had just taken place. Looking at her picture, she noticed that his signature, JD, was missing from the right hand corner. She thought nothing of it and went to Rose, who was on the other side of the park.

"Who was that man and why was he talking to you?" Rose demanded, concerned.

"Just a man. He drew a picture of me in the tree."

"He drew you?" she paused, thinking of Jack, "May I see it?"

Cora knew that hesitating was suicide, so she said casually, "Sure, take a look."

Rose took the paper gently; she appreciated it for the piece of art it was. One look, and it whisked her back to 1912.

She had only known Jack for four days, but four days was enough time to fall in love with him. So she had laid on the couch in the sitting room of her suite with nothing on but the Heart of the Ocean, vulnerable to anything and everything. Her real heart had been racing the whole time he had drawn her, had so expertly put her fiery resistance on paper. That had been the night she had lost him, but he wasn't truly gone. Every night, she saw him in her dreams. His being lived in Rose's memory precisely as he had been in real life, and she often woke up with tears of longing on her pillow.

Snapping out of her reverie, Rose said wearily, "Let's go home."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

It was here, though Cora was hoping it would never come. April 14 was here, and there was no way to stop it. Upon waking up, she stayed in bed for what felt like centuries until Rose entered the room.

"You can't hide from it Cora."

"I can try." came the girl's clever retort.

"Come on, Cora. Let's go out today, get our minds off of things."

"Where would we go?"

"Well, there's the lighthouse."

Cora stared at Rose blankly, clearly unaware of this lighthouse.

Rose chortled at the girl's confusion, "Maggie Brown had a lighthouse built to honor the dead. I think we owe it to them to go."

"Why would I honor people I never even knew?"

"Really? You didn't know Fabrizio or Helga? You didn't know Tommy Ryan? Or your parents?"

Cora flinched then.

"Or... Or Jack?"

"Stop, please." Cora pleaded, lip quivering. "Alright, let's go to the lighthouse."

"Great! We could make a day of it. Get a car-"

"Buy a car?!"

"Oh, no. Just rent one, have someone drive us around. It could be fun." There was a childish gleam in her eyes as she said it. The idea excited her immensely.

Caving once again, Cora said, "If you insist."

"I guess you'll have to get out of bed, now won't you?"

Cora laughed lightly. Rose definitely knew how to get her to do things, getting out of bed being only one of them. Jumping out of bed, Cora went to pick out an outfit from the clothes that Rose had bought her. There was a large amount of skirts, blouses, and dresses, but one dress stood out in particular. It was long and sweeping and all black, and seemed like a cry of mourning itself. Perfect for such a tragic day.

Emerging from the room with Rose waiting for her, Cora ran to the window to see the shiny car outside.

"I've never ridden in a car before." Cora admitted quickly.

"Then I guess you're in for an adventure."

The two walked out to the automobile, and Cora's eyes were like saucers. Riding in a real car was a rare experience for someone like her. As the chauffer stepped out to help her inside, her eyes got even bigger. But something was off about him. His eyes were bloodshot and he seemed unable to walk in a straight line. He was drunk. Practically fall-down drunk. Even so, she accepted the offer graciously and stepped inside to see fine leather upholstery, so valuable that it felt wrong to sit on it. Rose followed in after her, clearly more accustomed to the finery due to her past.

The chauffer stepped into the car and motioned for the two in the back to pull the divider that separated them down. They did so, and the man asked Rose, slurring his words as he did so, "Where to, miss?"

A chill ran down her spine as she heard those three words. Nobody had asked her that since... She giggled and blushed, thinking of the night of April 14. Her last night with Jack. The night that had occured six years ago today.

No, Rose, she scolded, Don't think about it. Don't think about the pain. Don't think about the dying. Anything but the dying.

Her stomach was in knots and she suddenly felt lightheaded. No doubt about it, the grief was still fresh in her mind, and her heart as well.

Then she snapped back to reality as she felt their car barrel into another one. The last thing she heard was Cora emitting a death scream, and then the world went black.

**A.N.- DUH, DUH, DUUUUHHHH! Sorry to leave you guys with a cliffy, but I promise I will try to update soon. I think the next chappie will be the last. I hope this fic didn't seem rushed or forced, but I sort of had the ending decided before most of the fic was finished. Please review and tell me what you think.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

All Cora remembered was being violently thrown foward, then, nothing. As she finally did come to, she was on the street, and she felt more light-headed than any bout of head rush could make her. She reached up to scratch an itch on her forehead, but recoiled when she felt fresh blood coat her hand. She struggled to sit up, but could barely even lift her head. The feeling of helplessness hurt her almost as much as the head wound that continued to pour blood.

"Cora!" Rose ran out to the girl, carefully avoiding the glass that had once been the windows of the beautiful automobile.

To Cora, the voice was an echo, seemingly distant, so she said, "Mother?"

Rose knelt beside her, replying in a concerned, protective sort of way, "No, Cora, it's me, Rose. You're going to be okay, we've called for help. I never should have let us get in the car. You and I both know that driver was drunk. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

"No," whispered Cora, "it's nobody's fault. Everything happens for a reason."

Just then, the passenger in the other car got out to see if the girl was okay. The man had blond hair and blue eyes. His clothes made it obvious that he'd used quite a bit of his savings to have someone drive him around.

"Is she okay? Wait, Cora?"

Rose turned around then to see who this person was and how he knew Cora.

"Jack." Her voice was barely audible; her lip was quivering. "It's me, Rose DeWitt Bukater."

"I think I'm gonna have to have you write that one down."

Rose laughed lightly, just as she had when he'd first told her that. Then she lowered her head, silent tears falling to the ground. Jack took her in his arms then, and they sobbed in each others embrace for what seemed like forever. They then turned to Cora, who was crying herself.

"I should have told you. I should have told you right away, Rose."

"Told me what?"

"I knew he was alive. I knew both of you were alive. I was just mad. Mad at you, Uncle Jack. I... I'm so sorry."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up, kid. We're together now. We can be a family now, the three of us." It was killing Jack to try to keep from crying. Cora could tell.

In a painful attempt to shake her head, the dying girl said, "No. It just can't be that way. It won't be that way. It's time for me to see my mother and father again. It's been six years, you know."

That's when the irony dawned on all of them. Cora had escaped Death's clutches on April 14, 1912, but would die on April 14th after all. Then it was too much to handle, and Jack broke.

"You can't go! We're all together now. You can't miss out on this, you just can't."

She took his hand, and looked in his eyes, and said, "I'll be in your heart. From this day on, now and forever more. I may not be with you, but always hold on."

They were both crying freely, and Jack nodded. It was a promise that he would hold close to his heart, until the day he died.

"You're still my best girl, Cora."

"That's all I needed to hear." Her voice was so quiet that Jack had to lean in to hear her.

Then, right there, in the middle of the street, Cora Cartmell died. She died quietly and peacefully, and there was something tragically beautiful about her passing, for without it, Jack and Rose Dawson would never have found one another again.

**A.N.- I hope that was a good, emotional ending for you guys. Now you know why I called it Still My Best Girl. So, freakily enough, I went on Pandora and put on "My Heart Will Go On" radio, and songs came on that totally fit the part of the chapter I was writing. When Rose was apologizing to Cora for getting in the car, "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan came on. When Jack got out of his car, "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban came on. When Jack and Rose were crying when they found each other, "I Won't Give Up" by Jason Mraz came on. When Cora grabbed Jack's hand, "You'll Be In My Heart" by Phil Collins came on, and I used some of the lyrics as dialogue. Thanks to all who supported me in writing my first fic and accepted me so openly. I think I'm going to take a stab at the "Neverland" fandom next, so any of you who have seen the SyFy miniseries will have something to look foward to! **

**Peace, Love, and Flying Machines,**

**Titanicfangirl**


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